


oh god, i think i'm falling in love with you again

by Felgia_Starr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/M, Getting Back Together, Gift Fic, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Porn with Feelings, Post-Break Up, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23628226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felgia_Starr/pseuds/Felgia_Starr
Summary: Hermione and Draco are forced to share a bed when there's miscommunication within the hotel staff and the hotel is fully-booked. This is a terrible idea because they both blame each other for their breakup and have been throwing passive aggressive remarks towards the other ever since they arrived in the hotel. Not to mention, they're still kind of madly in love with each other.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 264
Collections: DFW Birthday GOGO Fest 2020, Dramione one shots





	oh god, i think i'm falling in love with you again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamsofdramione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsofdramione/gifts).



****

Hermione tries not to shift uncomfortably on the bed, pulling the covers up to her shoulders. She straightens her legs, adjusts the hem of her slip, and moves her hair so that her neck is bare against the pillow. Her eyes move about the dimly-lit hotel room, quickly checking on her ex-boyfriend lying beside her.  
  
When her gaze reaches his form, she sees that Draco is lying on his back, an arm underneath his head, and his eyes closed. From what she can see, it looks as though he’s already asleep. A jab of envy stabs at her chest, and she wishes she could rest as easily as he does when forced into a situation with a despicable former… lover? Partner? She doesn’t really know what’s the not-awkward term for it.  
  
Letting out a huff as she looks away, she shifts her left leg into a more comfortable position, and when her knee hits Draco’s thigh, she swears she sees his nose wrinkle and his mouth curl in distaste for a quick second. He isn’t as unaffected as she initially thought and also has a bit of trouble sleeping next to his… What does one call their former enemy, former friend, and now ex-boyfriend who she’s totally not still in love with? Whatever the term is, it would impeccably describe her relationship with Draco.  
  
“Can you stop thinking so loud?” the man in question groans, as though in total and genuine pain, beside her.  
  
Hermione blinks, taken aback by the sudden disruption of the previously everlasting silence. She initially thought they could just go through this painful situation without speaking to each other, but Draco can’t seem to help but be an obnoxious prat all the time.  
  
“Forgive me,” she hisses through clenched teeth. “I didn’t realise my brain had its volume on max.”  
  
She hears him snort in that unbelieving way of his. “Just shut up and sleep.”  
  
“You’re the one who initiated this mundane conversation,” she can’t help but point out, shooting a half-arsed glare in his direction.  
  
He lets out a pained groan as if it’s a torturous experience just talking to her. “That’s because you can’t stop bloody thinking.”  
  
“But can anyone even realistically stop thinking?”  
  
He doesn’t formulate a response exactly six seconds after she asked, so Hermione turns to her side to face him, a frown growing on her face. When she opens her mouth to say something again, Draco finds it the perfect time to reply.  
  
“That’s the problem with you, Granger,” he mutters, eyes now open and glaring. “You don’t know when to stop thinking, talking, or anything else you fucking do.”  
  
Her temper rises, and she takes the bait, sitting up in facing him, every muscle in her body taut. “You know what, _Malfoy?_ That’s better than being so emotionally unstable that no one can communicate with me at all!”  
  
He finally looks at her, his eyes bright and piercing, and she knows that he understands exactly what she’s talking about. “This again, really? What’s next? You’re going to tell me that I spend more time with my friends than with you? That you think I hold more affection for my secretary than I do for you?”  
  
Not for the first time tonight, Hermione adds another two reasons to her _Why It’s a Bad Idea to Share a Room/Bed With an Ex You’re Still Partly in Love With_ list. To be fair, neither of them asked for this. It was the stupid hotel staff who got everything wrong, and the stupid holiday season for making everyone else take every room while she—instead of sleeping in a quiet room by herself—gets to spend her night fighting with Draco Malfoy.  
  
“At least I share things with you—all you do is close off in your stale office and leave me alone with your house-elf!”  
  
“Did it never occur to you that I’m getting sick of hearing you nag all day?”  
  
“Nag?” she repeats, fuming; her fists clench, fingernails digging at her palm. “ _That’s_ what you call me asking if you’re still interested in investing in our relationship? Asking if you even still want me in your life?”  
  
“Oh, that’s rich,” Draco seethes, throwing off a sneer that’s as familiar to her as the back of her hand. He sits up, arms crossed loosely above his chest. “That’s really rich coming from the _sweet_ and _caring_ girlfriend who never, in the entirety of our three-year relationship, considered telling her friends about us!”  
  
“Are you kidding me?” Hermione throws her hands up in the air, her chest aching. “ _You_ were the one who suggested that we don’t go public when we first started this fu—” she catches herself, taking a breath before continuing, “—nightmare!”  
  
“That’s because I knew from the beginning that I was just some stupid passing fancy for you that you were never going to take seriously!”  
  
“What are you talking about? I tried to talk to you until the very end—and it was you who wanted to break up in the first place! Weren’t you the one who said that I was nothing but a filthy whore who’s only good at sucking your cock, that I’ll never be good enough to have your family name because dirty sluts like me should only be—”  
  
“Shut up,” he spits, his eyes blazing and his face red.  
  
All of a sudden, the temperature in the room seems to go up, making her breathe a little faster and perspire a little more. From what she can observe, he’s affected too, the hand gripping his knee a sign of his struggle with self-restraint.  
  
Hermione smirks as her heartbeat quickens. Perhaps it’s insensitive of her to use the words he said during sex against him, but all is fair in love and war; if she wants to win… whatever this is she’s doing with Draco, she should be ready to deploy each weapon she has—at the same time, if necessary.  
  
She lets her face relax, hiding the fact that she’s breathing a little too heavily. “Why? Am I starting to make sense to you, Draco?”  
  
At her mention of his first name, his grey eyes narrow and darken, and because of the dimmed lighting, he begins to resemble the man she originally fell in love with—the dark and seductive Draco with simple words yet complex desires. But as their relationship progressed, she found herself falling for more and more parts of him until she got to a point where she was— _still is_ —in love with Draco Malfoy and all the things he’s capable of.   
  
She holds her breath when he leans in closer, his hands inching towards her. A gasp escapes her as the tips of his fingers brush along her knuckles. And when his fingers finally clamp around her wrists and grip her in a suspenseful yet blissful manner, her eyes flutter close immediately.  
  
“Don’t say my name,” he orders in the quietest tone, his breath feathering across her cheeks.  
  
Her lips quirk up at his words, her heart hammering as she feels her rebellious spirit awaken inside her. “ _Draco._ ”  
  
And then, he kisses her—a desperate version of passion that sears through her soul. She thinks kissing him back is a natural instinct, and she’s proven right when her own lips mesh with his, when their teeth clash and her tongue dances a dangerous waltz with his own.  
  
Kissing him reminds her of a war she’s sure she fought in a past life. It’s messy. Every once in a while she hurts him or he hurts her. It’s unhinged, self-control swiftly turning into a foreign concept between the two of them. It’s ugly, horrendous, and disgusting, but that’s alright because Draco’s so very beautiful, and, most importantly, it feels like she’s risking her life every single time—she’s always willing because she just knows everything is worth it with him.  
  
She moans in loss when he tears his lips away from hers, but she’s alive again when his mouth transfers to her neck, lapping up at her skin; biting, kissing, leaving marks everywhere. His tongue brushes a sensitive spot, and she throws her head back in response, moaning. When his fingernails dig on her wrists, she realizes his body still recognizes hers as its possession.  
  
When his hands let go of her wrists to palm her breasts, Hermione wraps her arms around his neck immediately. His fingers perform a different kind of magic on her nipples, pinching and teasing through her nightgown until they’re sensitive and hard.  
  
She whimpers, craving his touch on her bare chest. Her hands travel to the straps, pulling them down her arms hurriedly, aching to have Draco’s lips all over her naked breasts. He pulls his mouth away from her neck to leer at her exposed flesh, his pupils dilating as he drinks in the sight of her.  
  
Fidgeting in her position on the bed, she gets more and more desperate for his touch as the desire in her belly intensifies. Just before a plea slips out of her mouth, Draco dives in, lips surrounding her left nipple and fingers pulling at the other.  
  
_Fuck._  
  
Her hands bury in his hair, hips grinding into his growing erection, longing for sweet friction, and he keeps on pleasuring her as if she deserves it; as if she deserves _him._ _  
_ _  
_ For some reason, tears build up in her eyes, and instinctively, she tears Draco’s head away from her chest only to capture his mouth and swallow his tongue. He pushes against her mouth, catching her lower lip with his teeth before easing the pain by sucking and licking on it.  
  
His hips begin to move against hers, hard cock hitting her heated centre with every bump. She moans at every contact, never pulling away, while he releases desperate short grunts that make her cunt pulse.  
  
Soon, his hands travel down, lifting the hem of her slip to expose her damp knickers. The tips of his fingers teasingly move along her clothed slit, one of his hands gripping a hip to halt her grinding against him. He pulls away from her mouth, a playful smirk on his sinful lips.  
  
She growls in frustration when he ignores her attempt to kiss him again and when he continues to neglect her aching centre. She tries her best to look into his eyes and beg him with her gaze, but she gets lost and finds herself scanning every bit of his beautiful face as one hand caresses his cheek.  
  
She misses him so very much, and there’s nothing in the world she wants more than his burning touch. There’s nothing in the world she needs more than to be connected, to be whole with him again.  
  
Something wet drips on her cheek, but she pays it no mind, choosing instead to get lost in his eyes. “Please.”  
  
Draco just chuckles darkly, a familiar gleam in his eyes. “Is there something you want, Hermione?”  
  
She nods weakly, biting her lower lip.  
  
“And what is it?” he asks, his soft voice contrasting against his mischievous smirk. “Tell me, love. Tell me what you want.”  
  
“Touch me, please.”  
  
He smiles at her, a smile dripping with the sweet promise of sex, before leaning in and pressing a short kiss to her lips.  
  
“I’ll make you feel so good, baby,” he swears, leaving sweet pecks on her cheek.  
  
Before she can scream out of frustration and tell him to just bloody do it, his hands roughly pull down her knickers and, without warning, he moves a finger into her already-drenched cunt. His sudden intrusion is enough to get a low moan out of her throat.  
  
He moves his finger inside her in slow, languid strokes—so gently and so softly that she cannot help but feel thoroughly infuriated at him for teasing her so effectively.  
  
“More, Draco. Please.”  
  
Surprisingly—she thought he was going to make her beg for it—Draco obliges, inserting a second finger and pressing his thumb on her clit, stroking it.  
  
Hermione groans in pleasure, unable to stop her hips from moving against his hand. With every in-and-out movement of his fingers, pleasure erupts throughout her entire body, slowly spreading like liquid fire underneath her skin. His other hand pinches her clit, making her back arch, nipples brushing against his hard chest.  
  
It feels criminally good, but it isn’t enough.  
  
“Draco, I can’t—” she whimpers, words cut off by his fingers brushing against a sensitive spot inside her. “Please, I need— _oh God, Draco!_ ”  
  
He purposefully hits that same spot over and over again, bringing her to a quick and abrupt orgasm. He doesn’t even wait for her to get over the aftershocks of her sudden climax; he just pulls down his pyjama bottoms to reveal his hard cock.  
  
She lets him lift her up by the hips and slide her down over his aching member.  
  
They both let out a groan when he fully sinks into her, and her seemingly-boneless arms wrap around his neck, bringing his head closer so their lips can meet in a desperate kiss.  
  
She rapidly grinds against him, savouring the feel of having him inside her, filling her up and making a home out of her—a feeling she never thought she would ever experience again after their breakup.  
  
Another moan flies out of her throat when her clit hits his pubic bone, the sound muffled by Draco’s mouth. More erotic to her are the desperate grunts and the deep groans Draco releases every time her cunt closes around his cock, every time he feels her juices dripping down to his balls, and every time their hip bones crash into each other. There is no rhythm in the way they move—they just crash and burn every time they meet, and it doesn’t matter because fucking Draco feels _too bloody good._ _  
_ _  
_ A strange memory appears in her head, depicting the last time she fucked him like this—back when he told her he was hers right before he came, and Hermione had the right to hold him afterwards. She still remembers how he looks post-orgasm, a precious smile on his lips, his eyes scanning her naked body as though it’s the first time every single time. And then, he would tell her he loves her.  
  
For the umpteenth time this evening, tears surface in Hermione’s eyes, and when she looks into Draco’s face—searching for the same expression she’d always seen before their breakup—and finds nothing, those same tears stream down her face, decorating her face with melancholy and heartbreak right as she comes for the second time.  
  
Her own orgasm triggers Draco’s, and she wishes she could feel the warm spurts of his come staining her insides so that in the future, she can look back at this memory and say that at least she felt all of him right before everything truly ended.  
  
But...  
  
“I love you,” he says, that goofy smile and those oh-so-happy eyes making another appearance.  
  
Her heart skips a beat, and fresh tears streak her face once more. “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to say thank you to [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik) for taking the time to beta this work! This piece is written for [dreamsofdramione](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugggghead/pseuds/dreamsofdramione) who asked for a little fic with three tags: Angst, Smut, and Idiots in Love! I hope you'd enjoy this, girl!!
> 
> And happy 2nd birthday to DFW!!!
> 
> Paalam ;)


End file.
